Eventually, Stone Will Crack
by LusayLu182
Summary: My first Les Misérables fanfic. Isabelle Bouvier has had a difficult past that she wishes to forget, but some things refuse to leave memory, pain and sorrow from former lives and decisions haunting her, and the murderous Montparnasse is continuously lurking in the shadows. When she meets the Amis, she thinks she's safe. But is she really? Enjolras/OC.
1. Ch 1 Running Into Certain People

**Lusay: Ummmm...hi. I'm LusayLu182. I usually write for Sonic the Hedgehog, but I've always had a passion for Les Misérables as well. So this is my first time writing for the fandom, I hope I do a good enough job to satisfy you guys, i have no idea if you judge hard or not, but I do hope you will enjoy the story, cuz that's why I write! Anyway, please read and review to tell me how I'm doing! I'm really nervous right now!**

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**Chapter one: Running Into Certain People **

Isabelle Bouvier silently walked through the crowded streets of Paris, her bare feet making no sound against the cobblestone road. She would have been considered a pretty thing if it hadn't been for poverty. She was a dirty, thin creature, the skirt of her long, torn ugly brown dress clung to her tiny legs even as she walked. Her limbs could have passed as twigs, her scrawny arms wrapped around her slender chest as she shivered under her paper thin rag of a dress. Her long, reddish brown hair had once been attractive, but now lay in wasted, knotted clumps, only one lock that ran alongside her dirty nose and over her right eye could be distinguished as hair. The only remain of her beauty was her bright green eyes which sparkled like emeralds. It was the one thing not even poverty could steal from her, as her mother would say.

She slipped in and out of the crowd unnoticed as she made her way to the market. She didn't have money, not even a sou, but she was starving. She needed food desperately. Not only for herself, but for her parents and little sister, Rochelle. That poor little girl of eight, a whole nine years younger than her sister, wasting away. Isabelle was determined to get at least a small morsel of food.

The market was full of busy people, people with money, people in at least a slightly better condition than her. They were buying and selling, talking and chattering. The noise was delightful. It was exactly what the girl needed.

She sneaked around behind a bread booth, where the baker was talking loudly to a costumer inquiring on the quality of his loaves. "Of course this is the finest bread in all of Paris!" The short, fat man said. "Try it yourself!"

Isabelle quickly snatched up a loaf and hid it in the pocket of her skirt, walking away calmly as if she had just been passing by. No one had seen her. She fingered the bread hungrily, thinking about how good it would be to finally have food in her body again. How long had it been since she had eaten? Five days? Maybe a week. Most of her bits and scraps of food she had given to Rochelle. The sickened girl needed it more than her. But now she had a whole loaf in her possession! It would be a feast for her family. Such a feast, that no one would notice if she had a small piece now. She felt a bit greedy, wanting to eat right away while her family had nothing. She wasn't going to eat all if it, she had already decided. Just a small bite.

She sat down beside the street and pulled the long loaf out, her mouth watering at the sight of the golden crust. She could already smell it, taste it in her mouth.

She hurriedly broke off a piece and was about to shove it in her mouth when a hand grabbed her wrist, yanking her to her feet and causing the bread to fall into the street, only to be rolled over by a carriage. Tears that refused to fall welled up in the girl's eyes as she stared at the worthless remains. The thought that someone had his grasp on her, she pushed aside. The loss of that loaf was her only concern.

"Isabelle Bouvier," said a slow, distinguished, and terribly familiar man's voice said. She suddenly looked up at the tall man gripping her wrist. He was young, perhaps her age, with black hair that poked out from under a tall black hat and cold, hard green reptilian eyes that glared at her and sent shivers up her spine.

"Montparnasse?" She gasped. A small smirk grew on the young man's countenance as his grip tighten on her wrist.

"You thought you could escape from me, didn't you?" He inquired. "You should know by now your efforts are useless. When I want something, I will take it. You have something I want."

Isabelle shrank from the small pain in her right wrist, keeping a steady gaze on Montparnasse, who was known for being an unpredictable murderer, one of the four leaders of the gang, Patron-Minette, the most violent, dangerous men in Paris. She noticed the streets were strangely empty. Where had everyone gone to? "I don't have anything," she confessed. "No money, no beauty, nothing you could want."

"Lies!" Montparnasse hissed, grasping her wrist until she whimpered in pain. "You know what I want. If I don't have it you're as good as dead."

Just then, a young boy ran past, also a poor street boy with bare feet and holes in his clothes. "Get back here, Street Rat!" Loud, commanding voices were heard coming around the corner.

Montparnasse let go quickly, tipping his top hat down over his eyes and briskly walking away.

Isabelle didn't miss a beat, knowing she might be hunted down herself if the approaching officers knew of her earlier deed. She turned and ran as fast as she could down the abandoned street after the young boy. She knew Montparnasse wouldn't run after her. If the police spotted him, he would be suspected if a crime. No. He would follow slowly and quietly, taking note of where she was going and cornering her when the opportunity allowed him.

She gathered her skirts and ran as fast as her stick like legs could carry her, dashing through the empty streets toward the running boy, for she knew exactly who he was. She ran as fast as she could, catching up to him in a matter of seconds.

"Gavroche!" She called out, reaching the young, twelve year old boy's side.

He glanced at her as he ran, his bright blue eyes lighting up excitedly. "Belle!" He cheered. "Are you running from the Cognes too?" The shouting of the men behind them was getting louder.

"Yes," she agreed, deciding against telling him the real reason of her escape. "What did you do this time?"

He sent her a toothy grin. "I'll give you half a loaf of bread if you help me get these bucket brains off my back." Half a loaf was defiantly better than no bread. Half a loaf would still supply her family for at least a day.

"Deal," Belle nodded. Checking behind her she was able to get a good look at the officers chasing them. They were gaining, and she knew if they caught up to them there was no escape. Gavroche was a street smart, daring and tough boy. She too was crafty and stubborn, but there was no way the two youngsters could over power the five armed officers, trained for things much greater than chasing down a couple of ragged street rat children.

Belle turned her head back to the street before her, her eyes resting on a large water barrel outside a shop. Water was usually kept inside for obvious reasons, but this unusual circumstance was a great advantage to the two runaways.

Gavroche seemed to notice it at the same time, his eyes lighting up in excitement. The duo glanced at each other in mischievousness, needing no further conversing.  
As they passed the barrel they stopped for a brief second and overturned it, its contents flooding into the streets. It served its purpose, slowing down their pursuers briefly as the two continued their flight.

"Do you know where you're going?" Belle asked, gathering what was left of her skirts in her hand, her long hair streaming behind her.

The boy nodded, his shoulder length blond hair also flying in the wind. "Follow me!" He said determinedly. "We'll soon be there." Gavroche skillfully led the way through several streets and alleyways, each bend adding the distance between them and the police, who were not as agile as the younger ones. "They won't suspect us here," he said presently as they reached a building with the sign 'The Café Musain.'

Gavroche swung open the front door and leapt inside, taking Belle in with him.

The Madame of the café looked up anxiously as the door slammed shut. "Hello, Madame!" The boy said quickly, dragging his companion through the café toward another door, probably one leading toward a back room.

The Madame looked relieved seeing it was only the boy and his friend. "Hello, Little Gavroche," she smiled. "A few friends of yours are upstairs."

Gavroche nodded, opened the door and led his friend through a hallway and up a flight of stairs leading to yet again another room.

"Where are we-?" Belle didn't finish because the boy had already burst through the third door, shutting it behind them.

"They'll never find us here!" He declared, panting a bit. His eyes flashed excitedly as he looked around the room. "Enjolras! Combeferre!" He called out happily, running toward two young men seated at a table.

Belle noticed that both men looked happy to see the boy, the one with shorter, dark blond hair smiled kindly and patted him on the back, setting down the book he was reading . "It's good to see you, Gavroche," he said.

"What brings you and your friend here?" The other, a handsome young man with light flyaway blond curls and shocking blue eyes asked, glancing from Belle back to the boy in a soft yet commanding voice.

She blushed, the realization that she disturbed these men without even knowing them sank into the pit of her stomach, making her feel uneasy. "I really should go," she said distractedly, fondling the hem of her dress. "I had no intention on disturbing you, Messieurs."

"Aww! Belle, why leave so soon?" Gavroche pouted. "I want you to meet my friends."

She tried to protest. "I really must be going."

He didn't seem to listen, he was already back at her side, tugging on her arm, and the younger looking man stood, motioning to the curly haired man to follow.

"Good day, Mademoiselle," he said kindly, flashing her a smile. "Any friend of Gavroche is a friend of Les Amis de l'ABC."

Belle blinked in surprise. Everyone in Paris had heard of the society, a group of young revolutionary republicans, students mostly, who were anti-King Louis-Philippe. These men believed in equality, in status, rights, and opportunities. These men, most sons of rich families, pitied the poor, homeless, worthless scum on the streets, they would fight to the death for these people. Although she had never attended their meetings and speeches, which were usually given in the streets, Gavroche had often told her about them. They were the boy's idol.

"My name is Combeferre," the young man who couldn't be any older than herself said with a bright smile. "And this is Enjolras, our leader." He gestured to the other, who nodded politely, his eyebrows bent firmly, but kindly.

"I'm Isabelle Bouvier," she introduced, pushing her bangs from her face. "It has been an honor meeting you both. It is good to see some do care of the condition of the people."

Monsieur Enjolras nodded passionately. "We do much more than care. Any of us would and are willing to take the bullet if needed. Now is the time for change, and we are here to assist in it." Combeferre nodded, his lips pressed together tightly. Gavroche grins, looking as if he were ready to attack the National Guard right then and there. Belle smiled, admiring her young friend's courage.

Suddenly, the boy looks around in a confused manner. "Say, where is everyone?" He questioned. "Where is Courfeyrac?"

Belle gasped, her face going white. That name was familiar...


	2. Ch 2 Crossroads

**Lusay: Hi guys! I'm so super sorry about the late update! I'm trying to get a new chapter up every Sunday, but my fam was super busy this week and this was the first chance I had! I hope I don't blow it, since this is only the second chapter and I can't even commit to a time! Ugh! Anyway, I hope you can forgive me. I've received some really warm welcomes, and some great feedback, thank you so much for that! I hope you like the next chapter!**

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**Chapter two: Crossroads**

Courfeyrac strolled down the path of the Luxembourg Gardens, his hands deep in the pockets of his jacket. The wind blew sharply, sending his dark curls fluttering in the wind, a sign of the approaching winter.

He knew this was a regular destination for his classmate, Marius Pontmercy, at this time of day. Courfeyrac had been trying to get Marius to come to the Friends of the ABC meetings for a long time now. Marius had a rich grandfather, but he was living in that run down, dispraised Gorbeau tenement. He had told Coufeyrac that he and his grandfather had had a disagreement on politics, and he left home, not wanting anything to do with his grandfather for criticizing his beliefs and his deceased father. Coufeyrac had decided Marius would make a good addition to the Amis, and immediately started inviting him to the secret meetings. It was always something that kept him from coming; studies, a bad mood, he was tired, he was busy.

Coufeyrac never gave up on his friend though, and finally, he had excepted the invitation. Unfortunately, things hadn't gone so well. After one or two meetings, Marius had a head to head argument with Enjolras, about Napoleon, no doubt! He was astonished at the idea of a republic, that the people should govern themselves. He agreed that the poor needed help, but Enjolras' firm beliefs in democracy, that the government was practically evil, the thought of trying to take it over, was too much for the young Bonapartist. What was intended for conversation, ended in an argument.

And the last thing anyone would want to do was argue with Enjolras. "Apollo," as Grantaire often called their chief, was as stubborn as they came, a stone statue that would never crack. A marble sculpture that would always stand. To argue with him was almost a death wish in a way. When he had a point to make, he would make it. Period. And no one on Earth could ever make him back down or allow someone to criticize his beliefs. He would make the best lawyer in all of Paris, perhaps all of France! It was more then mere chance that he was studying law. It was also Marius' field, and he was nearly as stubborn as Enjolras.

Combeferre had to split them up before it went too far, and Marius had left, having enough of it. The Amis had later joked to Enjolras that it had been a full blown debate, one that would surely grasp the attention of a real court. Their leader had chuckled, taking the situation lightly. He had said that Marius still had potential. He cared about the people, which was a start.

Marius apparently held a grudge against Enjolras, just as he had with his grandfather. Coufeyrac had tried to talk with him, but he hardly saw him outside class, and in those times he was always blown off. He hadn't given up though. He knew Marius only needed to cool off. But he was sure that due to the cooling weather, that he had "cooled off" fairly easy. He knew his friend often walked these grounds, almost regularly, around this time. Coufeyrac was sure he would find him there.

A sickly cough caught him off guard. He turned, trying to locate where it had come from. Behind one of the benches was a small girl, not older than ten, but it was hard to tell. She was one of the poor children, that was obvious. From his angle, he could tell she was as thin as a stick, small scraps of cloth were her only protection from the wind.

Coufeyrac felt an acute stab of pity in his heart, not the first time either. He walked toward the bench until he was only a few years from it, before he squatted down to her hight. "Come, little one," he said softly. "Are you hungry?"

She blinked bright green irises at him, eyes that looked so familiar for a reason. Her brown hair was about shoulder length, clinging to her small, dirty face. She coughed again, a harsh, sickly cough that sent shivers up his spine.

Coufeyrac opened his jacket and removed a paper bag that contained a small loaf of bread. He took it out of its wrapping and held it out to her. "Here."

She looked at it hungrily, trembling from a mixture of fear and cold. She glanced at him, distrust brimming in her eyes. He didn't move, not even a muscle, keeping his charming, friendly smile on his face. She finally slowly crept from her safe spot, until she was directly in front of him. "Is that for me, Monsieur?" She questioned softly.

Coufeyrac chuckled tenderly, taking care not to frighten her. "Of course it is," he said. "Take it."

She looked at the bread longingly, but she didn't move any further. She finally inched her tiny hands closer until they touched the food. She took it gingerly, bringing it to her chest, yet, she refused to eat it, most likely afraid he would demand it back.

"What is you name?" Coufeyrac asked kindly. "Do you have a family?"

She nodded, looking relieved that he didn't ask for his food. "I'm called Rochelle," she whispered. "My papa is looking for work, but he never finds any. Mother is begging for food at a Church, there is a man and his daughter who hand out bread, but they always give to the little ones first." She coughed.

"I'm too sick and weak to make it all the way there, and the children are greedy, pushing and shoving. Mother says I would get hurt. I am supposed to wait here with my older sister, but she left to do something, 'get some food,' I think is what she said. Oh, Monsieur! You're so kind to give me some food! If my sister doesn't find any, and my mother doesn't get some, we shall at least have this to eat! We haven't eaten in so long, I don't know how long it's been. I shall share this with my family. They would be so happy!"

Coufeyrac smiled, listening to her chatter, as it appears she had warmed up to him nicely.

"Monsieur, my family doesn't even have a place to sleep. We only have the streets, sometimes a park, or under a bridge. And it's been so cold lately." She shivered slightly, her eyes casting a sad glance at the trees, which were swaying in the wind.

Coufeyrac already had his jacket off, and handed it to her. "Take this."

She looked at him frantically. "No, Monsieur! I didn't mean for you to do that! I cannot take your coat! You will freeze! You will get sick! Someone will think I stole it!"

Coufeyrac wrapped the too big jacket across her shaking shoulders. "Don't fret about me. You need warmth more than I do. And also, you may keep what money I have in the pockets. It's not much, but it will perhaps buy your family some food for a time. I pray your father will be able to find a job soon."

The girl, Rochelle, breathed gratefully, her eyes sparkling. "Thank you, Monsieur! You must be an Angel who came straight down from Heaven!"

Coufeyrac chuckled and stood up. "I wish I could say that," he said. "Farewell, Mademoiselle Rochelle."

"Farewell, Monsieur Angel!"

He stood, smiling, and offered a small wave to her as he walked away. The wind stung more harshly than it had before, sending chills down his back, but he hardly noticed it.

He could see the next bench was occupied by a young man, a student, with tattered clothing, spiky auburn hair, and freckles splattered across his face.

_Marius._

He was staring at the bench to his right, the side opposite to the direction Coufeyrac was coming from. His fists were clenched besides the occasional wiping of his palms on his trousers. His right foot tapped the ground repeatedly in an impatient manner.

Coufeyrac felt a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. Why hadn't he seen it before? So Marius' bad mood and disappearance from meetings had nothing to do with Enjolras, well, not as much as expected. It was quite obvious that Marius was in love. So he must be waiting for the young lady to meet him. That explained why he was always so busy, why he constantly came here. This must be the lovers' meeting place.

However, as Coufeyrac approached, he noticed Marius appeared frustrated, red tinting his face. "Marius! It's been a while!" He said cheerfully. His friend looked to him, normally soft blue eyes narrowing. "It appears you're waiting for someone," Coufeyrac continued lightheartedly. "I wish you could say it is me."

The bottom lid of Marius' right eye twitched slightly, indicating he was not in the mood for comedy. "Let me guess," he said, glancing into the sky. "You're here to invite me to another Friends of the ABC meeting, am I right?"

Coufeyrac smiled. "You're not an easy one to sneak by. You've hit the nail directly on the head, my friend."

"I'm busy," Marius stated, looking intently back at the bench he had been staring at previously.

Coufeyrac sat down beside his unusually grumpy companion. "So," he said smoothly. "Who's the young lady?"

Marius jumped, looking frantically at the calm face of Coufeyrac. "What are you talking about?" He asked.

"It's obvious," Coufeyrac shrugged. "And I, of all people, can interpret the symptoms caused only from being dead in love. Marius, my friend, this is remarkable! Clearly remarkable! I thought there was no hope for you ever being into love and women. It was about as possible as the sun shinning at midnight. You were a small measure better than Enjolras, who will not even look twice at a woman. And now you- Truly amazing. She must be a fine young lady, is she not? What is her name?"

Marius was so stunned he couldn't speak, his eyes showed a tinge of sadness. Coufeyrac instantly wiped the smile off his face, wondering if he had gone too far. "My apologies, Marius. I didn't mean-"

He watched as his friend solemnly removed a white handkerchief from his pocket, handing it to him. Coufeyrac took it, eyes glancing over it. It was simple and plain, with the initials U.F. stitched on the bottom right corner. "Is this her's?" He asked.

Marius nodded. "She dropped it on the bench next to us a couple weeks ago. Her last name is Fauchelevent. She and her father help distribute bread to the poor, Monsieur Fauchelevent is working on building an orphanage and a school. They are really good people. I think her name is Ursula."

Coufeyrac raised an eyebrow. "Think? Do you not know her name? Have you not spoken to her?"

Marius shook his head. "I wanted to for months. But her father, Monsieur Fauchelevent, he always brought her here for their walks. He seems rather intimidating."

Coufeyrac nodded slowly. "So you just came here to watch her?"

"Yes. It was wonderful, really. I had always wanted to talk to her, but I knew I was lucky enough just to be in her presence. I've never seen such beauty! Such lovely, flowing chestnut hair! Long, fluttering lashes! Wonderful blue eyes! She's small, she's sweet, just glancing upon her was a delight. When her eyes looked my way, I thought I would faint! It was marvelous. One day, I decided to follow them home. I was bold. I was stupid. When I found her address, I asked the doorman about them. That's when I learned their name, Fauchelevent. But the next day, she didn't come here. Nor the day after. I waited as patiently as I could, worried to death she might be ill. I finally returned to her apartment, she had moved out."

Marius clenched his fists. "I had vowed to myself that I would talk to her the next time I saw her. But I never had the chance. That was two weeks ago, and I haven't seen her since." He ran his fingers through his hair.

Coufeyrac looked at him, a mouthful of smart remarks on how pitiful his cowardice was on the tip of his tongue, but for a reason, it seemed his friend didn't need it. He looked as if he already understood his stupidity, and how it cost him the possibility of never again seeing "Ursula."

"I have an idea," he said, placing a hand on Marius' shoulder. "Why don't you come to another meeting? We're planning our next public speech, but we drink, play, and laugh as well. It might get her off your mind."

"Nothing will ever remove thoughts of her," Marius insisted passionately. "And I already told you, I'm busy. Besides, Enjolras and I don't exactly get along."

"Enjolras can be harsh with everyone," Coufeyrac stated. "He doesn't mean anything by it though. He was actually the one who told me to try to invite you again."

"But we don't-"

"Marius? Do you see that girl over there?" He nodded to the bench on the left, where Rochelle was still huddled behind, warming herself in his jacket, cradling the loaf of bread. "Poverty did this. The society caused her to shiver in the cold, to starve. The government ignores her, and the thousands in her circumstance. Does this mean anything to you?"

"Yes, of course! But I have no money. I can't do anything."

"You can. That's what Les Amis de l'ABC are about. We're the friends of the abaissé. And the abaisséd are the people. As long as you wish to be a friend of the people, you're with us. That's our core, it's what we really fight for. The people. That's what we do to help them, to help children like her."

He stood up. "Shall we go?"

Marius paused than nodded, standing up as well.

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The two finally arrived in the back room of the Café Muslain. Everyone was pleased to see Marius again, welcoming him warmly.

"Coufeyrac! You're finally here!" Gavroche cheered.

Coufeyrac gave the small boy a quick hug, as the two were almost brothers. "Hello, Gavroche. How have you been?"

He grinned. "Great! I want to introduce you to a friend I brought. She seems to know you." He glanced around the room, frowning. "Hey! Where did Belle go?" He demanded.

No one answered.

"Where is she?" Gavroche repeated, narrowing his eyes.

Combeferre, who was sitting near the fireplace with a book in hand, shrugged. "I'm not sure. She was talking to Prouvaire, wasn't she?"

Jean Prouvaire, who had been engaged in conversation with Marius, stopped and looked around the room, his eyebrows bent in confusion. "She was right here," he said, scratching his head. "That's strange."

"Did anyone see where she ran off to?" Feuilly asked, noticing Gavroche's perplexity.

Everyone shook his head, a few negative murmurs dotting the room.

"Maybe she was uncomfortable being in a room full of men," Combeferre suggested.

Enjolras, who's gaze never left one of the two windows in the room, mumbled softly, "Women shouldn't be up here in the first place." It hadn't been intended to be heard, but he received a silent look from Combeferre anyhow.

Gavroche shrugged, not hearing the remark. "No matter. Belle is a big scaredy cat!"

Belle? Coufeyrac pressed his lips together. Where had he heard that name before?


End file.
